


Penitence

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cas POV, Purgatory Fic, Season 8 Spoilers, slightly shippier than gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Its where I belonged.  I needed to do penance for the things I had done on Earth and in Heaven. I didn’t deserve to be out. And I saw that clearly while I was there.”  (Castiel, A Little Slice of Kevin).</p><p>The penitent's journey in Purgatory and the sacrifices made in the hope of finding forgiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penitence

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray in Supernatural fic. Apologies for what has no doubt been done before and for the angst. But this show is made of beautiful people and their beautiful angst. I am not immune to such things. 
> 
> I hope this isn't a total travesty for a first try.

Angel of the Lord, soldier of Heaven, a once would be-God, Castiel understands and has always understood what it is to sin, what it means to do penance, to seek forgiveness and salvation _(such truths written in light on shadowed wings so that they none of them could escape the word of their Father)._ He believes he understands what it is to be repentant, to want to follow in the worn paths of countless of men who would right their wrongs in search of absolution.  It was why he took Sam’s affliction, undoing a single knot in the tangled mess he’d made, while hoping one day to have more to offer to Dean than a promise to follow him once more into likely death and do his best to stand at his side.   
  
He believes that this is penance, believes he walks the long road of repentance until Dick Roman _(who Castiel had held within the same grace that had warmed Dean’s torn soul and he knows there is no sacrifice he can make that will remove the stain of that truth)_ dies and sends him to Purgatory with the one thing Castiel has never been able to give up.   
  
Dean’s heart hammers in the unnatural stillness of Purgatory and in the infinitesimal space between beats, the comforting haze of Sam’s madness dissipates. In the stark unreality of Purgatory, clarity settles in his bones like lead and Castiel knows that he has been wrong, very wrong.  There will be no more communing with the bees, no more boxed-lids that proclaim the words that stick in his throat, no more gentle efforts at making amends and hoping to survive long enough on Earth to find forgiveness.   
  
Purgatory cleanses him of illusions, because he knows this place, knows that this is where he belongs, amongst the unclean and the inhuman, paying back in blood  and sacrifice what he owes for his many sins. The knowledge weighs heavily, like purpose, and Castiel believes it is right that he should be here, trapped in the emptiness that is neither Heaven nor Hell.   
  
Purgatory is for the penitent.   
  
Castiel hears Dean’s panic, the disbelief in his voice when Castiel tells him where they are,  sees the glint of dangerous eyes in the darkness, and he experiences a swift, disorienting moment of sorrow when he understands that it will not just be the violence of Purgatory that he must endure. He must endure Dean and Castiel has never been very good at doing that at all.    
  
He senses the anger in the shadow, can almost taste their hunger for vengeance, and there’s no time to hesitate before Castiel performs his first act of contrition, disappearing with the echo of Dean’s hurt surprise in his ears and the threat of destruction on his heels. His sins have led them to this place and he would rather shed all the borrowed blood in his veins than have Dean shoulder the burden of Purgatory’s hatred of the angel who tried to play God. Dean will face _(has faced)_ trials enough but Castiel refuses now to be another.   
  
He draws the shadows towards him, beckons them away from Dean with the irresistible lure of his light and tries not to think of Dean _alone, alone, alone,_ because it has always been his desire to walk beside Dean that has made him stray from his path.   
  
He will keep Dean as safe as possible in a place such as this even if it means surrendering the surety of Dean’s  presence, of accepting the sting of Dean’s disappointment and fury in his perceived abandonment, because penance is sacrifice, a pain that edifies and Castiel cannot falter.   
  
At night it is harder to hold to his purpose, to ignore the way _Cas_ and _please_ wind their way into his grace and urge him gently, insistently towards Dean. He was made to serve, to answer the call of the one he follows, and he understands that this is a test of his will, of his humble determination to make good. It is a trial, listening to Dean’s prayers, and the shape of his name when Dean asks for him, curses him, pleads with him aches like the loss of the voices of his brothers and sisters. He bears it in silence and if he softens the burning, fierce, desire to go to Dean with the cold, distant, comfort that his absence keeps Dean alive, Castiel thinks that there will never again be anyone to chastise him for such weakness.  
  
It becomes easier and infinitely more difficult to endure when  the tone of Dean’s prayers shifts from desperate to determined. Castiel wonders what has changed, what Dean has discovered because there now exists something perilously close to hope when Dean calls to him. Castiel knows he should run further, faster, fly as far as possible to keep his promise and pay his debts because he knows he will not be able to turn away from Dean if Dean comes to him—-wild, reckless, fragile, and yet unbroken—-asking Cas to believe that he’s gonna a work a damned miracle one more time.   
  
Of course, Dean finds him because Dean is forever doing the impossible. He comes crashing out of the brush, dirty, bruised and smiling like Castiel is the answer to all his prayers.  Castiel thinks about fleeing again, disappearing and taking his dangerous devotion somewhere that can’t be reached, but then Dean is hugging him and Cas has never before been more caught. The circle of his arms is brief, burns sweet, and Dean touches his face, smiles at him again and Castiel finally understands what it will mean to be truly penitent.   
  
For it appears that Purgatory has cleansed Dean of his anger, healed the wounds that Castiel had inflicted. Dean wants to take him home. Demands it, tells Cas in no uncertain terms that there is no leaving without him, fights at his side and fights _for_ him when the vampire wisely protests that Cas isn’t safe, that Cas is a detriment to Dean’s survival. Dean won’t hear it, won’t listen, refuses to understand, refuses to consider letting Cas go to save himself and Cas wonders what he has done to be counted worthy of the kind of unwavering fidelity that Dean gives so unfailingly to those for whom he cares.   
  
He wonders what he has done to deserve Dean’s forgiveness.   
  
Castiel watches Dean sleep, fitful and curled in on himself between the protective brackets of angel and vampire. Dean is restless and his face is pained while he murmurs broken words, whispers _Bobby_ and _Sam_ , and once, just once, _Cas_. Castiel closes his eyes and presses his thumb to Dean’s throat, comforts him with the barest touch he can allow, counts anxious heartbeats and denies the reckless wish that he could still slip inside and see the shades of Dean’s dreams.   
  
Dean calms and Castiel holds the moment within his grace so he can remember always the gift of Dean’s trust and the warmth of his skin. He grants himself one last indulgence in the fleeting softness of Dean at rest, knowing that the time draws near when Castiel  will prove himself repentant. But he first he must send Dean home because there will be no forgiveness he can receive if Dean does not survive.  
  
In the unsettling quiet of Purgatory, Castiel listens to Dean breathe and waits.   
  
They are close now, he believes, close to the door that will take Dean away from this place and leave Castiel where he belongs.  He grasps Dean’s wrist, curls his fingers around a pulse he once gave renewed life, memorizes the sound and feel of Dean alive, alive, alive. He says Dean’s name, loosens his last touch, welcomes what solace is to be found in doing what is right (what he must), and lets go of that which he has always wanted to grip tightly and never give up.   
  
Dean is gone. It is over, Castiel alone prays for absolution, expects nothing more than the endless violence of this graveyard for blackened souls and then the universe gives him back.   
  
The universe gives him back. Gives Castiel life and Dean and Castiel questions that such a thing can mean he is forgiven, but he goes to Dean because on Earth, as is it is not in Purgatory,  their purposes will always be intertwined.  
  
It is only later, after Kevin and after Crowley,  standing in front of a familiar car and wearing a familiar coat that Castiel remembers that penance is also confession. Castiel tells his truths, confesses to Dean and watches his throat work as Dean tries to understand. He thinks of Purgatory, remembers Dean exhausted and almost ruined with Cas’ name on his lips like a promise.  Dean’s eyes are bright, perhaps even wet in the corners in a way that Castiel doesn’t deserve and Dean deserves even less.  
  
Dean’s eyes are as alive and human as Purgatory was not and Castiel wishes he understood why there was salt slick in tired lines that grew deeper with every year, with every loss. He wonders at a universe that can still confound him, but here and now, Castiel wants solemnly, softly for Dean to believe, to know that Castiel is not (and never has been) Dean’s fault.   
  
Before him, Dean is confused, angry, righteous, and breathing, close enough to touch and real enough to believe. Castiel’s admission fills the space between them, Purgatory and the choices Castiel has made in each silent second. Rebellion, revival, betrayal, reunion, and farewell are in the parting of Dean’s lips and in the words that Castiel wants from the tip of his tongue.  Dean blinks,  look so young and so lost Castiel cannot recognize him.   
  
He waits, twisted up again in the unexpectedness of one-more time, one more time to try, one more Dean he must learn. He wants to know, wants to understand the ragged edges of Dean’s expression, but before Dean can absolve or condemn, Sam approaches and the moment is lost. Castiel believes his confession goes unheard and that Dean has not understood why Castiel did what he must.   
  
Dean looks away, Sam looks concerned, and Castiel does not know if he is saved or  penitent. He gets in the car and waits for Dean to give him a sign of the shape of things to come.


End file.
